Blue's Pov
For the past few days, Shane has barely spoken to me. This whole Grey thing has gotten on her nerves.I don't want to say this but I really miss her endless blubbering. How can I explain to her that I'm a god who's heart is molded into forgiving? I mean, I didn't want this either....it was just so unexpected and fast. Plus, I'm not that close to Grey and trust me... that's what I'm avoiding most.
I spot Shane at lunch, sitting on a different table that's not our usual. It's shrimp day, our favorite, and she's not having any. Damn she's annoyed.
I walk towards her and when I reach her table, she doesn't even look at me. I sit opposite her, gently placing my tray on the table.
"You are not having shrimps" I break the suffocating silence.
"I don't want to" she replies blankly.
"But you like them"
"Maybe I don't anymore" She finally turns to look at me. Her angry gaze lingers on me a bit longer which is actually choking.
"Things change, don't they Blue?"
I exhale sharply, leaning back on my sit.
"Look, I don't know why you're so mad about this whole thing"
"Maybe because you are now talking to the guy who made your life a living hell! You are talking to him like nothing ever happened!" She snaps angrily, raising her voice.
"Come on Shane. What gives? He apologized and I forgave him"
"That's it?! He just apologized?"
"He was sincere Shane "
"How do you know he was?! Blue stop being like a fucking damn ass!"
Shane has never used curse words with me. I go silent, her words stinging like hot arrows in my chest.
She exhales sharply, leaning back on her seat.
"I'm just worried" her tone is almost like a whisper, nothing compared to earlier.
I give her small smile that comes unconsciously. I take a sip of my peach juice and clear my throat.
"It's okay to be worried but...you shouldn't. There's nothing to be worried about in this situation, I can handle it. Okay?"
Shane scoffs softly, pushing her tray away even though she hasn't touched it.
"Fine."
She says it like it tastes bitter in her mouth.
"Fine, you can be friends with him… if that's what you want."
Blue raises his eyes to her, cautious. She isn't shouting anymore. And somehow, this calmer version of her feels worse—like she's trying not to break.
Shane continues, staring straight ahead:
"But get this straight…"
She finally looks at him, and her voice drops, low, firm, honest:
"I will never like that dickhead."
Blue exhales slowly.
"I'm not asking you to," he says quietly.
Shane's jaw tenses. She rubs her forehead with her palm, frustrated but tired.
"This doesn't make sense to me, Blue. Not even a little."
He doesn't respond.
She takes that as her cue to continue.
"You're the one who got shoved against lockers. You're the one who walked home with bruises and fucking lied to me that you 'fell.' You're the one he made miserable." Her throat tightens. "And now you're sitting with him? Talking to him? Smiling at him like he never—"
"I'm not smiling at him," Blue interrupts softly.
"You kinda are," she mutters.
Blue almost smiles—but stops himself.
He leans forward, resting his arms on the table.
"Shane… I'm not forgetting what he did. I just…"
He pauses, searching for words that don't expose too much of himself—because he never does.
"I don't know. I feel like—he's trying. And maybe I want to give him a chance."
Shane studies his face. Really studies it.
"You're too kind," she says finally, a little sad, a little angry. "Too kind for your own damn good."
"I'm not kind," Blue says. "I just don't want to spend my life hating someone. It's exhausting."
Shane sighs.
"You're exhausting," she mumbles.
Blue almost laughs.
A few seconds pass.
She picks at the edge of her sleeve, then asks quietly:
"Are you going to replace me?"
Blue's breath catches.
"What? No—Shane. What the hell?"
He sits up straighter, eyes wide.
She shrugs, trying to act unaffected—but her voice betrays her.
"You two walk together to class now. You sit with him at breakfast. I know it's dumb to feel jealous but—"
"It's not dumb," Blue says, firm. "You're my friend. My first friend here."
Shane looks down.
"I just don't want to lose you," she whispers.
Blue doesn't touch her—he's not good with physical comfort—but his voice softens in a way only she ever hears.
"You're not losing me, Shane."
A beat.
"And Grey could never replace you. Ever."
Shane sniffs once, then sits up straighter like she's pretending she didn't.
"…Whatever," she mutters.
And finally—
finally—
Blue sees her pick up one shrimp and place it on her plate.
He smiles.
Shane rolls her eyes.
"Don't look at me like that. I'm still mad at you."
"I know."
"And I still hate that guy."
"I know."
She sighs.
"But… I guess I'll chill. A little."
Blue nods.
"Thanks."
"Yeah, yeah." She stabs the shrimp dramatically. "But if he hurts you again? I swear to god, Blue, I will rearrange his fucking spine."
Blue laughs quietly—and for the first time in days, the tension melts between them.
_______________
The gym class finally ended, and the air smelled less of sweat now, replaced by the faint freshness of the early afternoon breeze sneaking in through the open windows. Grey fell into step beside me as we walked back toward the locker rooms. Neither of us spoke for a few moments, just the shuffle of our shoes on the polished floor filling the silence.
"So… you actually survived that chaos," Grey said suddenly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I didn't think you'd manage without throwing something at someone."
I snorted. "I'm a god of restraint, apparently. Someone has to keep it classy."
Grey laughed softly, and it was the first time I really noticed how easy it was to hear him laugh. "Classy, huh? Yeah… I guess that works for you."
We reached the hallway, the sound of lockers slamming and sneakers squeaking bouncing around us. He stopped, leaning casually against a locker. "You know… I get it, Shane's still annoyed at me."
"Yeah… she is. But she's your problem, not mine," I said. "I don't want to get involved. She'll cool off eventually… hopefully."
He tilted his head, studying me. "You really don't hold grudges, do you?"
"Not about stuff like this," I replied honestly. "I mean… I understand. You did some stupid stuff, but holding a grudge doesn't fix anything. And, honestly… I don't want to waste my energy being mad at people."
Grey nodded slowly, like he was processing that. "Yeah… I see what you mean. Most people would've just glared and ignored me for the rest of the week."
"Most people are idiots," I said lightly. "I guess I'm… not most people."
He smirked, leaning a little closer, but not too close, keeping a comfortable distance. "Yeah… I've noticed. You don't exactly follow the crowd."
"Why would I?" I said, shrugging. "Crowds are noisy and annoying. I like… doing my own thing. Figuring stuff out my own way."
Grey tilted his head, his silver hair catching the light. "Figuring stuff out… alone?" His tone wasn't accusatory, just curious.
"Not alone," I said quickly. "I have my friends. Shane, you… people I trust. But I don't need to follow someone just because everyone else does."
He laughed softly, and it was the kind of laugh that felt easy, like no one was judging him. "Alright, fair. I'll bite—people you trust, huh? Guess I'm… honored, then."
I glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "Honored? For what? You haven't exactly done anything to earn that yet."
Grey's smirk widened. "Yet, huh? Well… guess I'll have to work on that. Don't want to disappoint Blue."
I rolled my eyes but couldn't stop the small smile creeping onto my face. "Try not to, yeah."
We fell silent again, but it wasn't awkward. It was the kind of silence that felt like a shared space, comfortable and calm, like walking alongside someone you don't need to explain everything to.
"You know," Grey said after a few more steps, "it's kinda weird. I thought… I don't know… that people would just hate me forever. But you… you don't. And it's… nice."
I shrugged, keeping my gaze forward. "People can surprise you. Just… don't mess it up, okay?"
He nodded, and for the first time, it felt like there was a subtle respect between us. Not too flashy, not too formal—just real.
As we reached the exit of the school gym corridor, the sunlight spilled over us, warm and bright. I took a deep breath. It felt like the world was bigger than just problems and grudges. Like maybe… just maybe… some things could start fresh, step by step.
Grey glanced at me, just briefly, and gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Yeah… fresh start."
I matched his nod, feeling an odd kind of ease settle over me. Not a friendship yet fully formed, but… something that could grow, slowly, naturally.
____________
Dinner had been quiet for the most part, except for the usual back-and-forth between Lacey and Robert. Lacey was trying to convince Robert that she had cooked the chicken perfectly this time.
"I swear, this time it's not dry," she said, holding a piece up to examine it like a jeweler inspecting a diamond.
Robert chuckled, taking a bite and exaggerating a thoughtful chew. "Hmm… I'll have to consult the experts next door before I can confirm. The neighbors might be jealous of this masterpiece."
I pushed my plate around slowly, listening to their laughter and gentle teasing. I didn't speak much, as usual. I was the quiet one at the table, rarely joining in unless directly addressed. That was fine by me. Just being here, surrounded by the warmth and laughter, felt… safe.
"You okay, Blue?" Lacey finally asked, smiling at me as she placed her fork down.
I nodded softly. "Yeah… good."
"That's my boy," she said with a grin. Robert winked at her from across the table. "Don't worry, Lacey. He's growing up on his own mysterious ways, but he's still got a heart somewhere in there."
I managed a small, polite smile. That was enough. The conversation drifted back to light teasing about the dessert Robert had tried to bake and how it ended up looking like a burnt pancake. The kind of harmless chatter that made a house feel like a home.
After clearing the table, Lacey and Robert lingered in the kitchen, exchanging quiet jokes and planning tomorrow's errands. I quietly stood, picking up my tray, and made my way to my room.
---
The hallway was dim, shadows curling along the walls as I closed my bedroom door behind me. The lamp beside my bed cast a warm glow, illuminating my books, posters, and neatly folded clothes. My room smelled faintly of vanilla and old paper—a comfort I had grown accustomed to.
I sat on the edge of my bed, placing my tray down and resting my hands in my lap. Just as the peaceful quiet started to settle in, I felt it—an unnatural cold creeping into the room. Not from the window. Not from the floorboards. Something deeper.
A low, slow whistle drifted through the darkness.
I froze. My heart thumped harder against my ribs.
From the far corner of my room, a shadow shifted. Not a normal shadow. It moved like smoke, alive, curling along the walls, swallowing the light.
A figure emerged. Tall, lean, draped in darkness that seemed to drink in the lamp's glow. Its head tilted slightly, and the whistle continued—deliberate, hollow, haunting.
"…Hey… little Vard," it breathed.
The voice was chilling. Smooth, cold, almost playful—but with an edge that made my blood run cold.
I wanted to scream, but my voice caught in my throat. My legs refused to move. Every instinct screamed to run, yet every nerve locked in place, frozen.
The shadow advanced slowly, its presence oppressive, consuming.
The lamp flickered.
Closer.
Closer.
And then it stopped at the edge of the light. I could feel it studying me, learning me, and the whistle never faltered—stretching the seconds into a long, unbearable tension.
"Little… Vard," it whispered again.
The lamp flickered one last time—and went out.
Darkness. Absolute, suffocating darkness.
And my heartbeat filled the room.
---